My Thirtieth Birthday
by MyRoomLooksLikeAZoo
Summary: It's Yzma's birthday, and she couldn't be more unhappy. Yzma hates the idea of aging and would do anything to stay young forever. Learn about Yzma's past and about her evil sister, Nina, who just might be able to solve Yzma's problem.


Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or anything from the original Emperor's New Groove movies or TV series.

My Thirtieth Birthday

It was a beautiful November morning. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the leaves on the trees were various reds, oranges, and yellows. But all I saw was ugliness. This was because I was not looking through the window in my living room but rather at it. Actually, I was looking at my reflection in the window wincing back at me.

Like I said before, it was a November morning. But not just any November morning. It was November ninth. It was my birthday. My _thirtieth_ birthday. I couldn't stand aging like this. My reflection revealed a faint sign of a hideous wrinkle on my forehead. Why? Why couldn't I just stay twenty-nine forever?

As if she read my mind, my sister said, "Your age _is_ showing."

I turned to face her, scowling. She was lying comfortably on the couch drinking the coffee she drinks every morning. Whenever I drink coffee my teeth get stained, but hers always seem white as pearls. She happens to be my older sister; she's _four years_ older than me. Yet everyone always thinks she's the younger one.

"How do you do it, Nina?" I asked my youthful, fresh-looking sister.

"Do what?" she asked, all innocent.

"How do you look so young? You're almost thirty-four and yet you look barely twenty! How? What's your secret?"

"Ah," Nina said. "That is a question."

I waited for her to continue, but she didn't. As I sat there in anticipation, looking back again at my horrid reflection in the window, and as my sister continued to act all mysterious, my stupid brother-in-law came along to break the awkward silence in the room.

"I made Swiss Chocolate Mousse birthday cake!" he cried. "It's your favorite, Yzma."

"No it's not," I said.

"Oh," my stupid brother-in-law said. "Then it must be _your_ favorite, Nina."

"No," Nina replied in a bored voice. "Swiss Chocolate Mousse is _your_ favorite."

"Oh, right." The foolish one chuckled and then went back to the kitchen.

When noon came, the three of us were all sitting by the dining room table. Lunchtime is always a big thing in our home. But since today is my birthday, the meal was extra special. The table was covered in all sorts of exquisite dishes. There was roast beef and grilled chicken, lamb chops and steak, mashed potatoes and roast potatoes, sautéed cabbage and stuffed cabbage, tossed salad and fruit salad, baby carrots in Hawaiian cherry sauce and pickled green peppers, ratatouille and Italian pasta, chicken pie and blueberry pie, and of course my Swiss Chocolate Mousse birthday cake.

My brother-in-law might be stupid, but he isn't completely worthless. I can't deny it: He is an excellent chef. That's one of the very few highlights of living with my sister and her husband. Though his food doesn't make up for all the negatives of living with them. Aside from it being a bit odd that Nina and I still live in our late parents' house, I resent living with my sister because Nina is, quite simply, my least favorite person.

Ever since we were children Nina would torment me and make my life miserable. I remember when I was four years old, my grandmother made me a doll named Molly. Her full name was Molly My Dolly. She was made out of straw and she wore a turquoise floral dress. Molly meant the world to me, and I took her with me wherever I went.

Sometime when I was five, I caught a bad cold, and my mother explained to me that I was contagious, and that someone could get sick from me if they were near me. So I asked my mother to take Molly out of my bedroom so she wouldn't get sick from me. It was the first time we were separated in over a year. The next day, I felt much better and my mother said that I was no longer contagious. I then got up out of my bed, got dressed and left my bedroom. I had asked both of my parents where Molly My Dolly was. They both shrugged and said she'd turn up. There was only one person in my family left to ask: Nina.

I knew to avoid visiting my sister in her bedroom as much as possible. She was very private about her room. But this was a time that I just couldn't avoid knocking on that old, beat-up wooden door. I had to find out if Nina knew where Molly was. So I knocked on her door. Once, twice, three times. But no answer. My curiosity won over me, and I couldn't stop myself from opening the door, just a crack. _Creeeaaak._ The door made a seemingly deafening noise, but there was no call from Nina ordering me to leave. I figured she must not be in her room. So I decided there was no harm in opening her door all the way. When I did, a horrific sight lay before my eyes. Nina was not there, but there was something else quite different about her room since the last time I had seen it. Straw was sprawled all over the floor, all over her bed, all over her dresser, and all over her collection of potions that she liked to experiment with. I knew what had happened even before I noticed all the shreds of turquoise fabric mixed in with the straw.

I remember feeling the blood rush to my face as the anger filled my veins. I was outraged at my sister for being so cruel and I was heartbroken for the death of Molly My Dolly. I threw a tantrum that lasted a good three hours and then I cried myself to sleep. For the next month I mourned over Molly's death and refused to talk to my sister, or even look at her. My parents insisted that I forgive Nina, and they explained to me that Nina probably did it because she was jealous of Molly that I loved Molly so much more than Nina. I pretended to agree with them, but deep down I knew that that wasn't true. Nina wasn't jealous of my love for Molly. Nina didn't _care_ about love. Nina tortured Molly to death just to be her malicious, evil self.


End file.
